


73 Questions

by literlarry_real



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Banter, Dunkirk is mentioned a little in the beginning, Famous Harry, Flirting, Fluff, Non-Famous Louis, Strangers to Lovers, can't think of any other tags right now, famous/non-famous, the title explains it I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 04:41:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12313950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literlarry_real/pseuds/literlarry_real
Summary: Louis is more nervous than usual about filming the upcoming episode of Vogue’s 73 questions. Musician and soon to be actor Harry Styles may have something to do with that.





	73 Questions

Louis' got this. Just like the 27 times before. He doubts his 28th time will be any different. Apart from the fact that this time, he will be interviewing Harry Styles for Vogue’s 73 questions. No biggie, really. Or the fact that this is the first episode of 73 Questions 2.0, where the celebrity does not know the questions beforehand. Or that Harry, whose interview had been scheduled before the revamp, had actually requested not to be briefed on the questions. Louis can’t decide whether that was an amazing or an amazingly stupid decision. The questions and interview topics had still been checked and given the green light by his management of course, so Louis is hopeful that this won’t go too wrong. Oh, and then there’s the fact that this is his first time doing an installment of the series all by himself. Vogue’s budget cut for the series had been beautifully wrapped in “your British charm, quick wit and authenticity is the only thing 73 questions really needs” with a pretty red bow on top. Under the wrapping paper however had been a pretty ordinary box with a letter inside that revealed the decision to cut the team down to only a handful of people, meaning more responsibility, more stress, a higher salary, and a new job title that is so long Louis usually just refers to it as “doing what needs to be done, meeting a selected few famous people and making a series that previously featured one-take heavily scripted interviews look as natural and authentic as possible”. It's still shorter than his actual title. But, luckily for Vogue, Louis loves what he does, and has been doing since he got out of university four years ago. And if 73 questions now means filming these interviews with a DSLR on a tripod à la Casey Neistat then so be it. It definitely weighs less and is easier to handle than those RED cameras they had before.   
He checks that his phone is on silent one last time and pulls the questions up, reads through the first 10 once more, takes a deep breath, and runs through everything again. Batteries? Check. Spare batteries? Check. 128GB memory card? Check. Mic plugged in? Check. Settings on the camera all as they are supposed to be? Check (He’ll have to adjust the ISO once they’re inside). 

Louis’ got this. He can handle famous people with all their quirks and attitudes and usually manages to get the interview to turn out well. He can handle interviewing Harry Styles, British singer, songwriter and soon to be actor in his private London home. He can handle asking 73 questions about promo- related topics and random and seemingly personal questions that won’t matter in the grand scheme of things. He isn’t sure however, if he can handle the trust Vogue has in him, giving him the creative freedom and responsibility. Or the admiration and affection he’s been rumoured to have towards the younger man. Niall, his co- writer, unfortunately picked up on that. “You’ve never been this excited or nervous about any other celebrity, do you fancy him or summat?” Louis rolling his eyes and telling Niall to get back to work had lead to Niall spreading the absolutely false rumour around the office that Louis was crushing on Harry Styles. After that, it had been hard to keep the questions appropriate. (Niall still claims it wasn’t him who put the numerous bad pickup lines in there, but Louis isn’t too sure about that. The one involving Guinness kind of gave it away.)   
Louis shakes his head and swoops his fringe to the side, puts the headphones around his neck and gets out of the car, camera ready to go.  
Walking up to the gate of Harry’s townhouse, he mentally checks his equipment again. Car keys, phone on silent, mic, camera with SD card, no chewing gum. He’s all set. 

Taking a deep breath, he turns on the camera and points it at the alarm system at the black iron gate and rings the bell. He knows they will have another take of the 'arriving' scene, but Louis likes to have options, and it's more authentic this way. Almost immediately the speaker crackles a little and he hears a loud bang before Styles’ signature slow drawl through the intercom.  
“SHHHT! Oops. Who’s there?”  
Louis feels like he missed the beginning of a knock knock joke, but, as he wants to make a good first impression, he decides against telling one. 

“Hi. It's Louis Tomlinson from Vogue. 'M here to ask you 73 questions?"  
"Oh, hi Louis, I'll be right down!"  
Louis hears a buzz to let him through the gate. As he makes his way to the blue front door, adorned with an anchor- shaped door knocker, he can make out something that sounds like a herd of horses coming down a flight of stairs. Just before he starts to think that Harry might actually accommodate some equine creatures behind those walls, a slightly out of breath Harry Styles opens the front door. He looks beautiful, his short brown hair slightly disheveled, but in a James-Potter-pretending-to-have-just-stepped-off-his-broomstick-after-winning-a-quidditch-match way, not the Louis-being-attacked-by-his-five-sisters-and-one-brother way. His slightly oversized, white shirt (only three buttons done up) is paired with a pair of high- waisted houndstooth slacks that show off his ankles and next season's Gucci loafers. Only somebody like Harry bloody Styles would be able to make those three understated clothing items (four if Louis counts Harry's underwear that he is hopefully wearing, but going off of several articles across multiple news outlets, Louis is not entirely sure he can count on that) look effortlessly flawless.  
Louis gives himself a mental slap. Concentration is of the essence, Tomlinson. No fuck- ups before question 73, that's the deal.  
He notices Harry looking at him expectantly. Right.  
"Hi, thanks for letting me in. Just so you know, in case your management didn’t tell you, I'll cut the next minute, so it would be amazing if you wouldn’t move more than necessary while I run you through things super quickly, it would make editing loads easier."  
Harry quickly nods, and tenses up slightly as he tries to stand still.  
Louis on the other hand tries not to think of the multiple similarities between Harry and any greek statue, from the broad shoulders to the toned body to flawless facial features. Only one of them succeeds.  
"Okay, I'll just ask you about the topics I've agreed on with your team, film a little of the flat and we'll go through the footage when we're done to see if we need to reshoot something or if there's anything missing. I'll count you down on the last five questions with my hand so you'll know when we're done. Oh, and don't look directly at the camera, it tends to look too intense for the viewer when people do that. But you know that already, being an actor and all. Is there anything I should know before we start?" Louis know he's rambling and he knows he just talked way to fast. He can't help it though, Harry makes him nervous.  
Harry quickly shakes his head and relaxes a little, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  
"Okay, I'm just going to step outside again, knock on the door and then we'll start this for real.  
Relax Styles, this will be fun! Just pretend we're great friends, I'm coming over for a cuppa in your new house, you have loads to tell me, and it'll be over before you know it."  
Louis can't resist squeezing Harry's shoulder a little for reassurance. And poking his cheek where he knows Harry usually sports a dimple.  
Harry finally grins and takes a deep breath.  
"See you on the other side."  
"Don't you dare make an Adele reference when you open the door again, Styles."  
"But that's how I greet all of my friends when they come over!" Harry smirks. "Oh, and friends don't call me Styles either, so...."  
"Noted, Harold."  
Louis steps outside, closing the door behind him.  
Once outside he collects himself and exhales in a somewhat pathetic attempt to stay at least a little calm and professional, because his brain can only produce thoughts along the lines of _shitshitshitshit_ and _HarryHarryHarryHarry_. He blames Niall for putting the idea in his head that he might have a crush on Harry. Which he does not. At least it’s not a full-blown crush. Yet.   
Louis quickly checks that the camera is still recording and the mic is still on, reminds himself of the topics of the questions (acting, music, spitfire round, vogue, next steps, bye) and knocks on the door. 

The door opens and Harry stands there, as angelic as he left him not even a minute ago, in the exact spot (bless his heart, it really does make editing easier), and greets him with a bright smile. Louis’s heart should not beat as fast as it does right now. Not that anybody would ever find out. 

"Hello Harry Styles, thank you for inviting us!"  
" _Hello, is it me you're looking for_?"  
God damn it, really? Louis should've known better. Of course Harry was going to pick Lionel Richie, right after Louis had told him not to go Adele. He fake sighs internally. 

"Are you ready for your 73 questions?"  
"I think that doesn't count as the first one, does it?  
Step in, and take your shoes off if you don't mind, please"  
He theatrically gestures into the flat with his right arm.  
As requested, Louis steps over the threshold and takes his vans off, leaving them messily on one side, while Harry stands in the doorframe leading into what Louis assumes is the living room area, watching him.  
"So, young Harold, how are you today?" First question down, 72 to go.  
"I'm very well, thank you for asking! Would you like some water?"  
Louis answers with a "Yes, please" and follows Harry through the (really nice) living room to the open kitchen. Harry walks behind the counter and takes out a glass from the top shelf before turning around.  
"How do you take your water?"  
"It's just water, Harry, I'd be more particular if you had offered me tea.  
Still and no ice, please."  
  
He uses the time that Harry takes to pour him the water from a jug to pan the camera over the kitchen area. It's quite charming, if a little too pristine for his personal taste, white cupboards with gold appliances, marble counter tops (of course), a wooden cutting board in the corner by the fridge, an actual spice rack, like Harry is some sort of domestic god, and a bouquet of sunflowers on the countertop. Personal touches are added by a picture of Harry with his family, a thank you card from somebody (Louis can tell because it says “Thank You” on the front, not because he had the chance to read it), a collection of postcards on the fridge and some finger painting art by some kid. It's very unexpectedly tidy, and if Louis didn't know better he'd assume Martha Stuart was living here, given that everything is so polished. Thinking about it, he’s pretty sure this kitchen has been used in multiple cooking shows.  
"Thanks for the water. Has Martha Stuart ever cooked in here?”  
Harry lets out a cackle, surprised at the unexpected second question. Louis may have gone off script already, but he’s interested and this is supposed to be a naturally flowing conversation. The questions they sent Harry’s team beforehand had always been more of a guideline anyways, a number of potential topics rather than the exact questions Louis was going to ask. Everybody knows you can’t dictate a 73 question long conversation.  
“A gentleman never tells, but maybe.”  
Louis takes that as a yes. Two down, 71 to go.  
They walk over to the sofa in the living area, dark grey with a collection of colourful cushions, and a not-quite white blanket. Lottie would probably call it off-white, or eggshell or something ridiculously posh like crème Parisienne or something. Across the sofa are two patterned arm chairs, anchored by the wooden coffee table, completed with a tray and some coasters, a plant of some sort (Louis bets it’s real), and two photography books. 

The open floor plan looks like an interior designer’s show room, it’s that perfect. They sit down on opposite ends of the sofa. Harry sort of snuggles up on his side, one knee up against his chest, the other leg tucked under his bum, one arm casually flung over the headrest. He looks effortlessly flawless. There’s just this sort of elegance surrounding him that can’t be taught, the way he presents himself, approachable but in a way that makes it very clear how private he is. “You really have a wonderful house here, from what I can tell so far. Why did you prefer filming this interview here rather than at one of your estates overseas?” 70 to go. 

“Oh, ehmmm, well, I’m spending most of my time off here nowadays, so it’s the one that has the most furniture in, ehmm... and it’s the house I feel most at home in, I guess, apart from my mum’s up in Holmes Chapel.”  
“So you feel at home where you have the most furniture?” 

“No! No, home to me is more connected to people you know? Like the house in Holmes Chapel is home because my mum’s there and it’s where I grew up with my sister.”  
“Okay, so how would you define home then?”  
Louis’ tone is light-hearted, but Harry seems a little taken aback, a contemplating look on his face for a split second, as if the answer to that question will be somewhat intimate, revealing something deeply private. Maybe Louis shouldn’t have asked, but he’s curious and it’s a natural follow-up. 

“Well, I think it’s about a place where you feel safe. And surrounded by people who make you feel safe. It’s about a place where you feel most comfortable and most yourself, I guess. And I think, if you’re lucky, you can find somebody who makes you feel that way. A person who makes you feel home, like you’re never alone.” 

It’s Louis’ turn be stunned. Apparently Harry is able to put into exact words how Louis feels about _home_. There’s no way Louis can make himself believe he doesn’t have a crush on Harry now. Crush might not be the right word, infatuation maybe. He needs to get back on track though. This is an interview after all. He’s working. Not on a date.  
“That sounds amazing, Harry. Home seems to be very important to you. Is that why you chose to audition for Dunkirk and ended up getting the part? Given that home is a one of the biggest, if not _the_ theme in the film.”  
Louis is quite proud of himself and how he managed to dodge what would have been awkward silence. The question may have also worked to trick his brain into averting the “ _you need to blush, because blush rhymes with crush_ ” command. For now at least. 

Harry seems to be relieved at the topic change as well. He’s trained to answer promotional questions, so this must be right up his alley.  
“Actually it wasn’t the reason I auditioned, but it definitely made me even more excited to start shooting. I was reading the script, and it was brilliant and had me captivated, and I loved how the writers played with the notion of home and getting home, and how it is perceived differently by the characters. And Hans Zimmer managed to capture those feelings in the soundtrack as well, and I admire him greatly, as a fellow musician, that he was able to capture those emotions through music.” 

Louis knew before he drove here that Harry was good at answering promotional questions, he’s done his research alright, but holy shit, Harry is _gooooood_. Like, proper amazing. The response feels heartfelt and professional at the same time, and manages to give credit to people working behind the scenes in the same breath, while not giving a proper answer. Louis is in awe. He knows it’s partially due to being media trained for the past few years, but he’s rarely ever come across somebody who managed to make it feel so genuine.  
Now that they are back in known, safe promo territory the questions come easier. 

“That’s wonderful, Harry. How would you sum up working with Christopher Nolan in your first film in three words?”  
“Oh, that is so hard, I could talk about him for ages. Hmmm, I think I’ll go with _challenging_ , _inspiring_ , and _wet_.” 

Louis can’t help but laugh at the last adjective. He saw the trailer when it first came out, and if the two minute clip was any indication for what the pre- screening will entail next week, _wet_ was indeed an appropriate adjective to use. 

“Talking about wet, you released your second album, which is absolutely brilliant by the way, a few months ago, and the video teaser included you getting out of a bath, fully clothed. Was that an homage to Dunkirk, or is it just a pure coincidence?”  
“If that’s how you interpret the album teaser I would never want to tell you you were wrong. I like that people, and my fans, can interpret the same 10-second video in very different ways. But me, personally, I didn’t intend for a connection.” 

“Your team announced in your latest newsletter that you were getting ready to release your next single in about a month, can you tell us more?”  
“This is airing in a week from now, right?” Louis nods.  
“Sorry to disappoint you, but you’ll have to wait a little longer to find out which song it is. What I can tell you though is that the song is very close to my heart and I’m very excited for everybody to find out which track it is.” 

Louis considers nicknaming Harry “Sir of Swerveshire”, just based on how brilliantly he gives non- answers.  
  
“Well, we’re all going to have to wait then, unfortunately. I tried though, for the record.” Harry giggles and stands up. Louis does the same and follows him into the stairwell and up the stairs. It’s hard not to focus the camera on Harry’s bum, although he’s sure quite a lot of people would appreciate that. However, just because his camera isn’t pointed at Harry’s rear while they make their way up, doesn’t mean his eyes aren’t either. Louis is a gay man with an infatuation (or whatever you might call it) after all.  

The upstairs opens into one giant room as well, serving as a bedroom and second seating area. It’s very muted, a mixture of greys and whites, with pops of colours here and there, from the rainbow pillow on his bed to the cushions on his arm chairs (dusty pink and a blueish- green) to the dark blue rug and the faux white sheep-skin, it seems like all colours are represented in a beautiful harmony that shouldn’t work but does. It feels incredibly serene. There’s several art pieces on the walls as well, a print of Picasso’s dove, the infamous “my pen is huge” dick painting that sparked some controversy a few years back, and an abstract, ginormous blue, pink and white painting above his bed. Like downstairs, the room is given personal touches by some family pictures and luscious plants. The remaining wall space is covered with bookshelves (full of books and some trinkets) and some of Harry’s own, very distinctive black and white photography, similar to his Instagram feed. Over in the seating area that mirrors the one in the living room is a golden flamingo statue that is so Harry it hurts. To the right are three doors that Louis assumes lead to an en-suite bathroom, a closet (probably walk-in) and a second bedroom. “Some fancy sleeping quarters you have, Harry. Do you have a favourite decor piece in here?” 

“Maybe the Hayden Kays. It’s quite cheeky I think, but I bought it with Gemma a few years ago, and that entire day was just so much fun. Looking at the painting brings up fond memories.”  
Louis is more surprised about the honesty of the answer than the fact that Harry chose the one piece of art in his bedroom that depicted multiple pink dicks. He can kind of understand it though. Harry, being the popstar he is didn’t get to come out until his second album was released, and while it wasn’t really a surprise to anybody who had listened to him since he rose to stardom, it must be a relief to be able to openly make gay references without having to backtrack. Like having multiple dicks hanging in his bedroom and specifically pointing them out. 

“Harold Styles, are you up for a round of spitfire questions?“  
“Definitely. Let’s go”  
They walk to the seating area, Harry managing to walk backwards and not trip over his own feet while carrying both their glasses of water from earlier. They sit down again, Louis adjusts his jeans a little in the process and asks the next question. 

“Favourite colour?”  
“Changes daily, if not hourly. At the moment I’d say it’s a bluey greeny- blue. Like a clear ocean maybe.” Harry looks at him very pointedly and crosses his legs as if he is nervous.  
“Great choice. Favourite food?” Louis isn't stupid. He knows his eyes are bluey-greeny- blue. He knows that Harry just blatantly tried to flirt. But Louis needs to stay professional, no matter how badly he wants to flirt back. He just needs to get through the remaining questions and then they can flirt all they want (and then some, Louis hopes).  
“Baby carrots and hummus”  
“That’s a snack, not a meal. So?”  
“Can’t say no to my mum’s Sunday roast.”  
“Again, great choice. Favourite film at the moment?”  
“I’m media trained, so Dunkirk. Out in IMAX theaters everywhere a week from when this is released.”  
“Smooth, Styles... Favourite animal?”  
“Hedgehog, no doubt.” Harry looks poignantly at Louis, like he’s expecting a response. Louis doesn’t know why.  
“Interesting. Favourite song at the moment?”  
“My next single.”  
That little shit. Louis is endeared.  
“I guess you won’t be telling me now either, right?”  
“Nope.”  
Harry pops the “p”. His nose scrunches up a little as if he was about to sneeze.  
“What’s the funniest thing that happened to you last week?”  
“One of my friends has a toddler who’s learning to speak. And I was over at theirs last week, having dinner, and this little guy can’t say fork yet, so he kept saying the f-word. Long story short I haven’t laughed that much in ages.”  
Louis grins at that image. He remembers when the younger twins had learned to talk and kept messing up the pronunciation of some words. He should definitely drive up and see them again soon. Maybe he might manage to see them before he flies back to New York. Videos can be edited from pretty much anywhere after all.  
"I've heard you've got quite the reputation for telling joke as well, mind telling me one?"  
Harry's face lights up like a Christmas tree. For some reason, Louis feels like he should regret asking this question.  
"Knock, knock?"  
Oh god, here we go. He rolls his eyes mockingly, but replies regardless.  
"Who's there?"  
"God"  
Louis hasn't heard that one before. He's not sure he wants to.  
"God who?"  
He takes a sip of water.  
Harry's answer instantly makes Louis regret having taken that sip. Well, not really, because he was thirsty and asking those questions did dry his mouth a little, but the moment might have been a little more than inconvenient. Because no matter how hard Louis tries to keep the liquid behind his lips, the pressure becomes too much and what was intended as a little giggle comes out as a spurt of water, all over Harry's white shirt. Oops.  
"Godzilla." 

“I am so sorry, but that joke was horrible.”  
“My shirt tells a different story.” Harry deadpans, not caring in the slightest about being drenched in cold water.  
“Well, your shirt’s wrong then. I’m really sorry though, are you okay?”  
“Yeah, don’t worry, I spent a lot of time drenched, and in water that was even colder while filming Dunkirk, it’s nothing. Really.” 

“If you say so. I can’t really argue with that.” Louis notices how visible Harry’s chest tattoo, the huge butterfly, has gotten. He swallows hard.  
“So, let’s continue, if you don’t mind. Who’s the most unexpected contact in your phone?”  
“Uhmm... probably somebody like Manuel Neuer?”   
“The German goalie? Really?”  
“Yeah, we briefly met at some gala and exchanged numbers so he could keep me updated on his proposal plans.”  
“Manuel Neuer gave you his number to keep you updated on his proposal plans. Not that that matters, really. I can’t believe you’d even talk to him. Don’t you remember what happened at the England-Germany match at the 2010 world cup? How can you betray your home country like this!” Louis may sound like he’s joking, but he isn’t, not really. Yes, it might have been 7 years since then, but that match left a permanent mark. Harry just shrugs and smirks.  
“Worked out alright for him, the proposal plans, he just got married. Him, David and Wayne are actually in a groupchat with a few others.”  
“David and Wayne as in Beckham and Rooney? You’re on a first name basis with David Beckham and Wayne Rooney? You really do know quite a few people, don’t you, popstar. Moving on though, I’d rather not get jealous.  
Somebody, dead or alive, you wished you were texting regularly?”  
“This is so bloody hard to answer, there’s so many great people and I wouldn’t want to offend anybody....  
Can I give you a top three? Let’s go with the Queen, I am British through and through after all, Freddie Mercury, for obvious reasons, and Michelle Obama.”  
Louis scoffs.

“I understand Michelle Obama and Freddie Mercury, great choices. But what would you even text the queen about?"  
“I’m sure Elisabeth and I would find something.“

“Before I drove here my colleague Neil from Ireland asked me to ask you whether you prefer footie or golf. What’s your answer to that?“  
“Play golf, watch footie, I guess?“  
Louis lets out a dramatic gasp. “How dare you choose GOLF over footie?!“  
Harry shrugs his shoulders apologetically. Louis might have to have a word with him after this is all done.  
Thanks to that answer he now owes Niall a tenner (and has to pay for the next night out).  
“I’m rubbish at footie, really, with my understanding of the sport I should be a lot better at it.“  
Why can’t he even pretend to be slightly offended when Harry looks at him like that all charming?  
  
Somehow, while answering questions about those footballers that Louis is less than interested in right now (what were their names again?), Harry moved on to entwine their stretched-out legs. Had it not been for the spitfire questions he knows by heart, Louis would have a hard time coming up with anything coherent, because HARRY IS TOUCHING HIM and the only thing Louis really wants to do right now is turn off the camera and snog Harry senseless. If Harry wants that. He’s happy to shamelessly flirt as well. And then snog.  
“Last text you received??”  
Harry blushes.  
“I’d rather not say, but it was from my sister.”  
“Okay, last text you sent then?”  
Harry unlocks his phone.  
“I hate you so much right now. xx H.”  
“Was that in reply to your sister’s message?”  
“I’d never tell.”  
“So that’s a yes. What’s the last text from your mum?”  
“You seem to be very interested in my private messages, Louis. But for your information, it ended in “good luck, I love you”. Three kisses.”  
“Okay, enough of your phone, it’s getting a little boring, since you don’t want to share the juicy texts from your mum and sister.  
What’s one thing less than five people know about you?“  
“That is a great question, but one I have to think about. A few months ago I would’ve said my sexuality, but since that’s out of the closet… Can’t tell you the next single either, because a few more than 5 people know about that one. Then there are quite a few things that my fans don’t know about me, but a lot of those things I’d like to keep private, and some of them would be able to find out some things anyways. Hmmmm…“ 

Harry uses the thinking pause to not so subtlely scoot a little closer. Louis subtly changes camera angles and pans out of the window looking over a little, but well organized and tidy garden.

“Oh, I know something! I’m not telling you the details, but I was about to commit to a uni the same day I got a call from my label saying they wanted to sign me.“

Louis doesn’t really know what to answer to that. There’s so much more he wants to ask Harry about that, like what university and which subject he would have read for, but it’s clear that Harry doesn’t want to give any more information, so he moves on to the next question. Not before raising an eyebrow in a “I want to ask you more about it later when this is over“ kind of way.

“What is the last thing, apart from coming out I guess, that you crossed off your bucket list?“  
"You might laugh, but this interview, doing 73 questions with you. And that’s not even my media training speaking.“ Harry hand somehow found his way to Louis knee and it feels like his entire body is numb apart from that space where four fingers are resting against his jeans and a thumb is sort of stroking the fabric. This is not going to end well if they continue like that. But they’ve come so far already, and they will get through the next 40 questions as well. They are almost half way.  
  
  


“One thing you wish you could do right now?”  
“Kiss you.”  
The answer comes so quiet and fast that Louis thinks he might have misheard for a second. Or given the answer himself. That is until he sees Harry visibly tense up, his cheeks turning a light shade of red. He clears his throat, covering his face in a swift motion. 

“I mean, tell you that the next single is going to be _Kiss You_.“

Bull- fucking- shit. As if Kiss You wasn’t on his first album. And had already been a single.   
There is just no way they are going to recover from this. And by they he means the interview and himself. To be fair, they stayed professional a lot longer than Louis thought at least he could.  
But that answer (the first one, not the pathetic attempt of covering up) just raises more questions, all of which Louis can’t ask on camera for one reason or another. After all, Harry just said he wanted to kiss him. Him, Louis Tomlinson, born Christmas Eve 1991.  
He sighs in defeat and lowers the apparatus, rolling his eyes ever so slightly while shutting it off.   
If Harry can try and tell him Kiss You is the next single then Louis can tease him a little.  
It seems to pay off. Harry’s brows furrow a little as he looks back at him questioningly. 

„So, _Kiss You_ is the next single? Are you going to do a remastered 2017 version, since it wasn’t on this album?“ Louis tries to sound professional, but he can’t help but sound a little teasing.  
“I mean, maybe? I think it would go over relatively well. I am sorry though, I was just trying to keep the interview going but it slipped out in the spur of the moment and you can’t really recover from that, can you?“

“Well, I certainly can’t. You told me, on camera might I add, that you wanted to kiss me. As an answer to a question where other people I’ve asked answer anything from 'sleep' to 'get really good Korean barbecue' to 'go outside without being recognized'. And you have to go and tell me you want to kiss me.“

Harry leans back in his chair a little and removes his hand from Louis’ knee.

“I’m really sorry, I am usually way more professional in interviews, I really am, it’s just…“  
He takes a deep breath. Louis nods encouragingly. He wants to hear this.

“It’s just..“  
Harry clears his throat and then it comes out like a waterfall, so fast that, if Louis wasn’t used to his 5 sisters talking at an incredible speed and over each others’ heads, he might have trouble following.  
“Okay, this might sound really stupid now, and again, I’m really sorry, but I’ve been watching the 73 questions videos since the first one came out and I had just been signed four years ago and I was this young guy, new in the industry, and I know it was really stupid, because I couldn’t even see you and for all I knew you could’ve been a greasy old asshole who was just great at sounding nice- sorry, you know what I mean. Anyways- I just kinda fell in love with your voice back then and you were so charming and funny and god, this is so embarrassing, but I’d watch these videos to see if I could find out more about what you looked like because Vogue treats your identity, apart from your name, like this royal secret, and you don’t have any personal social media accounts, which is infuriating by the way, do you know how humiliating it is to ask your manager if he’d be willing to hire a proper detective to find out more about you and him hanging up on you. And then you kinda forget about the detective incident for three years or so until your manager, a different one this time, calls you and asks you whether you’d be willing to film 73 questions with Louis Tomlinson and it all comes back and the crush that you had _just_ made yourself believe you had gotten over comes back full force and you beg them to just meet with him alone because you’re not sure you can handle organizing a scripted interview with him and-“  
“Shut up and kiss me, you fool“

“Wait, what?“

“I said that I’d very much like you to kiss me right now, Harry Styles.“

* * *

 

“You do know that we’ll have to refilm this entire interview, right?”  
Harry smirks, mischief in his eyes and dimples in his cheeks, and presses another kiss on Louis’ lips.  
“I was counting on that.” 

* * *

 

[The video opens with a shot of Louis’ vans making their way up a cobble-stoned path. As the camera pans up the blue door and halts at the anchor- shaped door-knocker the title appears on the screen. “73 questions with Harry Styles“ Louis knocks on the door twice, his fingers empty where there’s now a 28 tattoo (and a ring when their in private), before it is opened by a beaming Harry Styles in a black shirt (buttoned all the way up), houndstooth slacks and next season’s Gucci loafers.  
“Hi Harry, ready for your 73 questions?“ 

“Hi Lou! That’s doesn’t count as the first one, right? Come in, make yourself at home. Water?“  
“Yes please. Still and no ice.“

They make their way to the open- plan kitchen, dining and living area that looks clean and tidy but lived in. A blanket is on the floor and the thank you card on the counter looks like it’s been knocked over. One might spot a little flour dust on the marble counter tops as well.

“How are you today?“  
“I’m very well, thanks for asking. It’s been an eventful day.“ Harry grins into the camera as if it’s an inside joke.  
“You have quite an impressive kitchen. Has anybody we know ever cooked here?“  
“Nicholas Grimshaw, Jamie Oliver, Martha Stuart, You….“  
The camera makes a nodding motion.  
“Last thing you cooked here?“  
“Does baking cookies count?“  
“It doesn’t, but I’ll let it slide just this once. Last meal that has been cooked here?“  
“Oh, someone _really_ nice made chicken stuffed with mozzarella wrapped in parma ham with a side of home made mash for lunch.“

The video pauses as the camera is about to pan away to the living room. Louis, nuzzled into Harry’s chest, looks up at him. „Someone really nice? You were so smitten already, love!“  
“Says the one who insisted on filming the entire thing dressed in my lilac sweater. Can’t believe that was a year ago, Lou.“]

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading 73 questions!!


End file.
